It's The Little Details
by NitroStation
Summary: Starscream mulls over the people he has to put up with everyday in the Decepticon ranks, and realises just how much he hates them all. Drabble fic, every chapter centres on one character
1. Dulling The Mind

_Control their minds_  
_And let them die_  
_Take their hearts_  
_And squeeze them dry_

Starscream was not a good Decepticon. And he didn't care. They could all go rot in a pit of ToxEn for all he cared. Every single one of the sycophants, the ignorant and dumb masses that Megatron so casually manipulated.  
He called them Eradicons.  
A better name would be sheep.  
Perhaps he was being a tad hypocritical, having sidled his way far into the Decepticon ranks with shows of loyalty so fake that they were almost sickening, but at least he was honest with himself. These minions and brainless drones, they actually believed that they were fighting for the good of those who survived the cataclysm of Cybertron. And in fighting for their false cause, they were corrupted from the inside out. Their identities were stripped from them, their names wiped from the records. They were unecessary tidbits of information. They existed only to take up space. And the Eradicons themselves? Nothing more than target practice.  
Yet not a single one complained. Not one of the idiots had a mind of their own, or dared to speak up and be an individual, rather than a disposable part in an army of simpletons. As soon as you were an Eradicon, you were already dead.  
They didn't even have the common decency to be stupid together. There were no friends amoungst their ranks, there was only the strong and the weak. And the weak would happily be disposed of by their peers should the circumstances call for it. Sometimes they'd just do it out of boredom. A vicious and primatice hierarchy.  
They were promised equality with the Decepticons, yet they'd all shoot each other in the back for an energon cube.  
It would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic.

xx

Drabble intro, I'm thinking of turning this into a small collection of Starscream's thoughts on the various Decepticon characters. This counts as a 'Steve/Eradicon' chapter, next up I'm planning to do Knock Out :)


	2. Narcissistic Cannibal

_Knock Knock_

_The doctor is in_

When one walked into the med-bay of the Nemesis, it was almost a certainty that the good doctor would be busy buffing his finish while you bled out the last of your energon on the floor. And when he finally noticed, he'd complain about having to clean it up.

It was one of life's biggest mysterys how Knock Out had even qualified as a medical professional, let alone having the skills to justify such a position. For all his faults- and there were many of them- Starscream couldn't deny his prowess with a scalpel.

Though lazy and mostly work-avoidant, Knock Out had a great passion for his job. Once he cornered Starscream in the Nemesis foyer and rattled on for half an hour on cutting open an Eradicon and re-adjusting his gears. Scream didn't have an aversion to gory details, but the depth in which Knock Out went to was disturbing. When he wasn't recovering from Megatron's beatings, Starscream made an effort to avoid the med-bay. But when there was no other choice but to walk past it, the faint cries, laughs and moans of an operation in progress could be gleaned from the ambient noise of buzzing saws and drills. It was like walking past a closed door in a brothel, and the sounds made Starscream want to purge. It didn't help that Knock Out usually exited with scuffed paint and dents in his armour that he didn't mind one bit.

But if there was any redeeming factor to Knock Out, it was that he wasn't as much a pedlicker as the rest of the Decepticons. He was only as obedient and loyal as he needed to be, and if he appealed to Megatron's good side it was always for his own benefit. Knock Out was far too cowardly to outright spite him though, as Starscream always did. Fearing for his body, no doubt. That wretched spoiled frame that he fawned over every day, strutting around as if he was an Iacon Council courtesan. If the rumours were true, he'd even had some experience as one. And who knows what he had used that sculpted frame of his for? Beauty was as much a commodity as credits or energon, though significantly more versatile. He would never purposely risk such an asset in a throw-away act of defiance against Megatron.

Just goes to show that sadism didn't always come hand-in-hand with masochism.


	3. Eyeless

_When living the high life_  
_All bulk and no brains_  
_Can make you breakdown_  
_For all but love_

The concept of yin and yang, where two opposite forces in nature are dependant on each other, though originating from the human parasites, was an interesting thought. If Starscream had seen it in practice anywhere, it was with Knock Out and Breakdown. Brain and brawn, logic and lugnut. An almost ionic bond of opposing particles, nearly unbreakable by conventional means.  
But the Decepticons were anything but conventional.  
Megatron would only allow their brotherly partnership for as long as it was beneficial. When the time came for...'cut offs', Breakdown would be the one to go. To Megatron, he was as disposable as the puppeted Eradicons, not to mention his personal vendetta against the Autobot Bulkhead had already proved to be detrimental. That he was formally affiliated with the Wreckers didn't assure Megatron of his value as a subordinate, despite having slaughtered nearly all of the bloated scraps of metal before defecting to the Decepticons. A show of allegiance, nothing personal.  
Further than Breakdown's bond with Knock Out was his infatuation with the newest member of the 'Con family, Airachnid. One eye and eight legs, an odd couple to say the least. The spider would sooner poison than pander to an officer of Megatron, but he would not be deterred. To Breakdown, Airachnid was a personification of lust and guilt. Not a mystery to be solved- as if he could solve anything with that byte-sized processor of his- nor a damsel in repressed distress. All he saw was hips and intrigue.  
But with one eye, what you didn't see mattered more than what you did.


	4. Killer Queen

_I may have to bump up the rating for this chapter, due to 'sexual references'_

_xx_

_Webs of deceit_  
_Webs of lies_  
_Strung from the rafters_  
_Between your thighs_

It was never safe to walk alone. Not even in the relative safety of the Nemesis itself. Not since her return. It wasn't that she stalked the halls of the ship like she owned it, because she practically did. Nor was it those exotic appendages that spawned from her back, barbed and beautiful in their grotesqueness.  
No, what stirred Starscream's spark into a frenzy was that for all her confidence, her airs of superiority held so high, she was never once brought back spiralling down to the earth. Not like how Starscream had countless times before, just at the moment when victory was certain. He knew how alike his and Airachnid's ideals were: to survive and conquer, and to Pit with the consequences. And he was furious that there existed one that was better than him at his signature trade. He didn't doubt for one moment that Airachnid could take down Megatron any time she wished, ripping the Decepticons apart from the inside.  
She enjoyed killing them slowly though. A quick, swift strike to the heart wouldn't do for her. There was nothing more delicious than seeing such a ripe fruit rot. She stretched her deaths out for as long as she could afford to. Sometimes it took mere minutes. In others the torture lasted for hours, blending into the final days of agony. Her sadistic lusts surpassed even Knock Out's; she didn't wait for the vulnerable to come to her, she hunted them down. Target, bait, corner and terminate. The Eradicons were her ideal targets, so plentiful in numbers, so easy to entice, and rarely put up a fight when they were tired out. When their bodies were recovered, their heads were always missing.  
With the Decepticons, pleasure was expensive.  
But why pay when you can steal?, Megatron's logic said. But can you truly steal from the giving? Another reason Airachnid didn't simply slice his smirking face off, Starscream suspected. That first night when she was brought back into the Decepticons, the ship rang with sounds of screaming and the scrape of metal on metal, one growing slower and lower with the other increasing in volume. When the perverted orchestra entered its final act of synchronised moaning, Starscream had to clamp his hands over his audio receptors to block out the depravity of it all. When he reported to the command centre the next morning, Megatron bared various scratches and paint scuffs on his armour, as well as a satisfied grin. Starscream couldn't stop a shiver of revulsion shaking down his frame. Thank Primus Airachnid was absent, or he would have purged at the sight of her scars, proud marks of her 'nightly endeavours'. She was no better than the lowest caste of Cybertron prostitute, an open mistress to Megatron in a forced relationship. She didn't even have the decency to resist.  
Breakdown knew, of course, of his interest's liaisons. The whole ship knew, and Megatron made sure of it. It didn't deter his fascination with Airachnid though. If anything, it was encouraged.  
That spider would be the death of him.


	5. Technical Difficulties

_Beware the quiet_  
_And the eyes in the dark_  
_The walls and corners_  
_Are not as lonely as they seem_

Intimidation was an easy thing to do when you were a Decepticon. Even the most cowardly rank could pull it off. But fear, true primal, inescapable fear, was a challenge to inspire in your peers. The type of fear that caused the most weathered warrior to break down in tears in your presence.  
Starscream had only ever met two bots who were fearful. Megatron, with his power and superior weaponry.  
And Soundwave. Every aspect of that wretched mystery of a bot was purely terrifying. He said nothing, yet you could feel either anger or contempt radiating from him. Never happiness. Starscream doubted he even knew of such an emotion.  
His undying loyalty to his lord, from the birth of the Decepticons to the very bitter end, should it come in his lifetime. It wasn't pitiful though, rather it was daunting. A threatening supply of power at his very servos. And Megatron wouldn't let his favourite lieutenant suffer such fools who dared to vex Soundwave. Not to mention keeping his voracious appetite for data sated.  
Those slithering transfer cables that slid so casually out of Soundwave's frame would send a shiver down any bots backstrut- Starscream was sure that Soundwave derived some sense of sick joy from seeing the disgust creep across faceplates. In public, they acted as simple data feeds to better pick up information from the ship's computers and the officer's own surveillance systems, but in his free time Soundwave would 'acquire' a test subject- willing or otherwise- to experiment and extract from. If the poor subject ever came out of that hole alive, he'd be even more of an empty husk than before. And he could follow those hollow shells whenever he wished from his countless eyes around the Nemesis. Always watching, forever tracking. You were never alone on that ship.

But what made Soundwave the essential avatar of death was his helm. And what he lacked there. That sheer glass mask hid more than a face. Identity was a sacred thing amongst the Decepticons, one of the only things that separated the officers from the mindless drones.  
What type of bot would hide such a valuable thing?


	6. Castle of Glass

_This medal of honour_

_Doesn't shine nowadays_

_No matter how much I polish_

_The blood still stays_

For all their backstabbing, lying and general underhand-ness, the Decepticons could at least be credited for one thing: they were united in their hatred of the Autobots. The Eradicons couldn't always be relied upon for their devout loyalty, but at least they acted from their brains if not from their sparks on the battlefield. With Knock Out and Airachnid's questionable allegiance to Megatron, and Soundwave's suspicious unswerving faith in the barbaric cause, there was no doubt that they'd make to maim any Autobot they saw. They had all lost something because of those 'Bots, and fought to avenge what had taken from them. Whether it was Cybertron, or a more personal loss.  
But the Seekers had always been a sneaky race of Cybertronian. If it wasn't for their speed and aerial superiority, Megatron would have had them all exterminated during the war. It surfaced naturally in Starscream, and he accepted it, embraced it even. Dreadwing, however, was not so easily read. Like his twin Skyquake- whom he never seemed to_ shut up_ about- Dreadwing showed an intense loyalty towards Megatron, so much so that, like many acts that took place among the Nemesis, it sickened Starscream. At least he only had to endure Skyquake for a mere number of minutes. The fact that Dreadwing's displays were all so _genuine_ didn't help at all. He was akin to a winged Optimus Prime, and Starscream still wondered how Megatron could stand such a resemblance in his ranks. Only his insatiable ego and Dreadwing's endless aft-kissing is what the Seeker alive.  
And yet with all his preaching of honour and fairness in battle, Dreadwing never heeded his own words. From what Starscream had seen of his tactics, not once had he ever gotten up close and personal. Always resorting to those explosive of his. Starscream doubted he could even dent armour with his fists, let alone take a bot down with them alone. Everything he did was for the good of his own survival, never mind the 'noble Decepticon cause'.  
It wouldn't be long before he was thrown to the earth and left to rust.


	7. Unholy Diver

_Thanks to the people who read and reviewed this little drabble fest of mines! It was fun but now it must end :)_

* * *

_We can live our lives as endless road trips_

_But at what cost?_

_Take a left at the severed trail_

_Don't fret about getting lost_

Perhaps Starscream didn't_ really_ hate his companions and shared enemies.  
What he hated was that when he saw them, he saw the undesirable parts of himself. It was like looking at scattered shards of a mirror, each with a face and glaring optics. And when he smashed them, he was hurting himself.  
Sadism, stupidity, lust, secrecy and hypocrisy.  
It was what Starscream was built on, a damnable personality with flaws all across the board. Useless for everything except as Scraplet bait. And even then he was sure that his taste would be undesirable, to say the least.  
And with Megatron himself, well, he beheld none of the Seeker's forsaken traits. He dripped confidence wherever he ventured and sent wires sparking at the slightest mutter of his name. He was everything that Starscream was not. And more than he could ever hope to be.  
And that jealousy was the true pure, unbridled hatred.


End file.
